Fool in the Rain
by Gambitlover21
Summary: Cannonball discovers something new about Gambit! And maybe about himself? SamRemy.
1. Chapter 1

YAY it's summer. This story has been sitting on my computer for like, ever. Anywho, it will eventually be Sam/Remy, 'cause I love them ever so much. No slash in this chapter. As far as continuity goes, before the whole "Death" fiasco and after House of M.

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He heard humming. No, that didn't really describe it. It was more like if tension could be conveyed in sounds, than a hum. Sam turned the corner and entered the large kitchen.

Remy LeBeau sat at the table, slightly hunched, carving into the dark wood table top. His "hum" had a musical quality to it that seemed familiar to Sam, though he couldn't quite place it.

Sam cleared his throat. Remy did not look up. Sighing inwardly, Sam said, "I don't think Emma would really 'preciate you carving into the table. I'm sure she paid through the roof for this thing."

Remy did not stop the carving. "An' since when did I care what Emma t'inks?"

"Good point." Sam shrugged, going to the refrigerator. Making his voice as bland as possible, he asked, "So, any particular reason you're makin' your, uh, mark on the table?" Snagging a coke, Sam shut the metal door and turned back to Remy, still industriously carving away at the table.

"Well, I like art. I like pissin' people off. I'm bored. So, what better way t' fix my boredom and combine two t'ings I like doin' into one thing?" Finally, Remy lifted his head. Giving Sam a challenging stare, he questioned, "Well. Did ya come in here just t' bother me, or what?"

Sam frowned. Normally, he and the Cajun got along very well. Remy's charisma and Sam's easy-going nature usually complemented each other. "What's got you so ticked off?"

Narrowing his eyes at Sam, Remy didn't answer. He stood and went to the fridge. Sam walked over to the table and looked at Remy's work. His jaw dropped.

One entire corner of the expensive table was covered in Remy's work. Vines with tiny, budding flowers flowed against the edge of the table. Male figures with Adonis like perfection and female figures exemplifying Venus cavorted in between the vines. All sorts of creatures and beasts watched from the edges of the carving, some observing with cold, predator eyes and others nearly about to jump into the fray. Most of the figures were not clothed.

"Holy shit." Sam breathed, bringing his eyes up to meet Remy's. The Cajun's red eyes were glinting back at his own, a small, mischievous grin on his face. "Remy, I didn't know that, well, that you could do somethin' like this. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"No one asked. 'Sides, why's it a surprise t' find dat Colossus ain't de only one who can do somethin' artistic?" Remy's grin widened.

"It's not, I guess. But, wow. I mean, we prolly can't let the kids see it, but… geez. How long did this take you?" Sam tentatively stuck out a hand, running his fingers over the surprisingly smooth wood.

Remy tilted his head in mock thought. "Oh, I guess since 'bout one o'clock last night."

"ONE! Remy, it's two thirty in the afternoon right now! You spent that long carvin' into the table???"

"Look at it! Good art takes time. 'Sides, it wasn't like I had anythin' better t' do." Remy said rather defensively.

Sam shook his head. "Ok, but I still wanna know why. No offense, but this was sorta random."

Remy was a good liar. But Sam knew that when Remy said, "Ah, no particular reason," in his casual way, that there in fact was a particular reason. Remy didn't do things like this on a whim.

"So, how are you an' Lila doing?" Remy asked suddenly, leaning against the counter and folding his tanned arms.

Blinking at the sudden change in topic, Sam rubbed his hand through his spiky hair. "Uh, not so great. The whole long distance relationship deal is getting' to be hard on both of us."

"Well, tell ya what. 'Cause y' were de first t' see Gambit's masterpiece, I'll take y' out for drinks t'night. Believe m' when I say I know how t' have a good time."

Something inside Sam tightened, both in surprise, and something he couldn't identify. Remy had that effect on him. "Well, oookay. I guess."

"Oui, good. See y' at Harry's around eight." With that, Remy exited the room with a dramatic flourish that was typical of Remy, leaving Sam alone with the carvings.

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Sam couldn't concentrate. He hadn't been able to since the meeting Remy and it was driving him crazy. He tried working out, he tried jogging. He ran a session in the Danger Room, called Paige and thought about calling Lila. Nothing kept his attention for long.

He decided to head to Harry's early, even though it was only a little after seven, to maybe play a game of pool. He pulled into a gray t-shirt and jeans, sliding on his favorite pair of brown boots. Locking the door to his room, he walked down the hallway. Rounding the corner, hands in his pocket, Sam nearly collided into Remy, who had just stepped out of his own room, pulling on a black shirt.

"Whoa dere, Sammy! Where's de fire?" Giving Sam a cheerful grin, he smoothed the shirt over his well muscled stomach. Sam jerked his eyes away.

"Uhhh, no one really calls me that." Sam was briefly uncomfortable, and wasn't really sure why.

"Alright, mon ami. Well, looks like we both had de same idea. Let's go." Remy headed down the stairs two at a time. It was just then that Sam noticed Remy was missing his trademark trench coat. Remy wore the coat so much that it was practically an extension of himself, and it was rather strange to see him without it. But not a bad strange, Sam decided, heading after auburn headed man.

Entering the garage, Remy pulled open the door to one of the mansion's Jeeps. About to hop into the driver's seat, Sam's voice rang out.

"And just who said you get to drive?"

Remy's eyes widened with an almost comical look of surprise. Then he gave a quick, deep laugh. "I dunno, mon ami. Guess I just assumed. Feel free t' go for it, though."

For some reason, Sam was irritable. All the little things that had gone wrong through out the day, even through the week, seemed to culminate to this point. Stalking past Remy, he stepped up into the Jeep. Remy watched him with raised eyebrows, then strode to the other side, sliding into the passenger seat.

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Um. So, review? The next chapter is already written, so all I need is some reviews and I'll post ASAP. Next chapter has slash, I swear! 


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter! There will be some boy on boy kissing, but nothing explicit. Well, here you go!

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Sam and Remy were pleasantly buzzed. Not drunk, not tipsy, but just full of that warmth that comes with a few beers. Sam's initial anger had cooled and then all together disappeared over the first hour at the bar. They played some pool and watched some of the Braves and Mets game on the TV over the bar. Sliding up to a billiards table, Remy took it upon himself to teach Sam how to "really" play pool. Needless to say, he was no where near Remy's level of skill.

For once, they were just two guys out for a night, rather than Cannonball and Gambit on a break. Or two mutants avoiding prejudice. Remy's eyes had drawn a few glances, but nothing was said.

Sam watched as Remy's eyes idly scanned over the bar. Taking a sip of his beer, Remy carefully placed it on the table. Holding the bottlecap in his hand, Remy blinked. The cap turned pink, the air around it almost shimmering with a vague phosphorous glow. He gently put the cap on the table, removing his hand.

Sam shifted nervously. "Uhh, Remy? I don't think that's a real good idea…" Sam looked around the restaurant, but no one was paying them any attention.

Remy blinked again and the pink glow around the bottlecap faded into nothingness. "Very true, Sam. But y' have no idea how good it feels t' be able t' do dat." Taking another swig of beer, Remy's face was reflective. "M' powers have been up an' down so much, ever since I first got them. I lost 'em, as y' know, and den I blinded my damn self 'cause I couldn't control them. They're just getting' back t' where dey were before de accident."

Shaking his head ruefully, Remy tone suddenly turned serious. "But didja know before all dat, a few years back, before de X-Men, I was an Omega mutant. Oui, Gambit, lowlife thief, Omega level mutant. Jean Grey type power." Leveling an intense stare at Sam, Remy murmured, "Y' have no idea what it's like, t' feel dat warmth… to know dat if y' need t', you can literally rend de flesh from a person's bones. I could charge air, Sam. I could make shields of dat charged air, an' nothin' could touch me."

He leaned back in the seat, twirling the brown beer bottle in his hands. Keeping eye contact with Sam, red eyes glinting, he stated in an even tone, "It was de most terrifying feeling in de world. Like everthin' was slippin' outta my grasp and dat dere was nothin' t' hold onto."

Sam hadn't thought that Remy could surprise him anymore that day. But Remy proved him wrong. Sam wasn't really sure where the little speech had come from. Remy just wasn't that kind of guy, to spill his heart to someone else. Frowning slightly, Sam asked, "Is there something going on? I mean, the carvings and now this?"

Acting as if Sam hadn't spoken, Remy placed his hand on the table. Though Sam saw nothing, he heard a faint popping.

"Y' hear dat? Dat's it now. I can just charge the molecules of air touchin' my skin, nothin' else. Ain't worse den static. Real useful for keepin' the telepaths out, though." The auburn haired man sighed.

Sam toyed with the label on his own bottle, not knowing what else to say.

"Dat 'bout sums up m' life right now. I'm real good at keepin' secrets, but really just a minor player who had a shot at greatness, den gave it up, 'cause of my lack of control." Remy put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together.

Resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair, Sam started, "Remy, I don't really know what you're –"

Interrupting Sam, Remy said in a bitter tone, one that Sam had never heard him use before, "Rogue left m'. For good ol' Gus. He's a thief, and one dat can touch her. Can't forget dat Mommy dearest approves of him, too."

Watching Sam with hooded eyes, Remy didn't move.

Sam felt sympathy, and something else, course through him. "Lord, Remy, I'm sorry." He felt like that wasn't enough, but what else could he say?

Remy gave him a small smile. "But, hey. At least y' an' Lila are alright."

"Yeah, about that… we're actually not doin' so great. I.." Sam broke off, not sure if he should share his suspicions with Remy.

Remy shook his head. "Y' got trouble in paradise too?"

"Well, the thing is, we were kinda, I dunno, on a break. I think she's been seein' somebody else. An' I really don't know how I feel about her right now." Sam commented uncomfortably.

"We got more in common den I thought, Sam. I…" Remy stopped. Outside the bar, they could hear an alarm going off. The noise in the bar rose to an excited pitch, and both X-Men rose from the booth to see what was going on.

Outside, there was a group of about eight men, armed with an assortment of rifles and shotguns, exciting the broken furniture store window across the street. Sam and Remy looked at one another with a grin.

Remy laughed. "Dis is just what we needed. A good fight. You get dose four and I'll get dese three over here. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" Sam said with a mock salute. Heading through the door, Remy had a deck of cards in one hand. Silently coming up behind one of the men, a grizzled older blonde, he tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, monsieur. Could y' hold dis for a sec?" Handing the man a faintly glowing card, he smirked and stepped back. With a muffled boom, the older man flew back a few feet, to lay groaning on the ground. The other two goons turned their guns to Remy… or where Remy had been a few moments ago.

Sam's cronies were shooting at him, but Sam wasn't particularly concerned. His forcefield protected him, and there were no civilians outside, having sequestered themselves indoors. He simply flew into most of them, knocking them out with a few punches.

Remy's two men were looking around rather nervously, pointing their guns in as many directions as possible.

"Max, I think they're muties. Freaks. We're kinda out of our league –" His voice cut off as Gambit appeared behind them.

"Really? Out of your league? Y' think so?" Slamming their heads into one another before they could even fire off a shot, Remy watched in satisfaction as they slumped, unconscious, to the ground.

The last man of Sam's dropped to the ground as well, just in time for the cop cars to come careening around the corner.

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Not wanting to attract the police, the two X-Men had quietly snuck back to the Jeep and headed back to the mansion, quite pleased with themselves. Pulling into the garage, Remy turned off the car and gave a rueful snort. Sam arched a brow and gave a questioning look.

Suddenly they were laughing. "Lord," Sam thought, "We must be drunker than I thought." And the thought cracks him up even more.

Sam and Remy laughed and laughed, until their chuckled dispersed into an easy silence. The radio was softly playing.

"Sam…" Remy looked like he wanted to say more, but just couldn't find the words. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Their lips met with such a crushing intensity that Sam gasped against Remy's mouth. Part of his mind was shocked into a frozen state. The other part was screaming at him to stop this, this was Remy, his teammate! A man! And the last part, larger than the other two, reveled in the kiss, drowning in the strength and fervor of their lips touching.

He felt so alive, every nerve was singing with electricity, his hands reaching up to twine in Remy's auburn hair, deepening the kiss. Remy's groan sent sparks down Sam's spine. Opening his lips, Sam sent his tongue over Remy's own lips, and Remy slid his hands underneath Sam's shirt, tracing the patterns of his muscled abdomen.

Red on black eyes opened, pupils wide, and a part of Sam was pleased of the fact that that was his doing. "Backseat," Remy breathed and crawled over the middle console with catlike grace, tugging at Sam's shirt.

Not quite having the same grace that Remy possessed, Sam ended up half collapsed across the Cajun's chest, who pulled Sam into another kiss. This kiss was deeper, harsher, their breaths coming in harsh pants. Remy tasted of beer and pretzels and cloves and Sam was surprised at how well the three went together.

However, two tall men in the backseat of a Jeep isn't what anyone would call comfortable. "Let's go inside," Remy drawled, red eyes shining.

Sam swallowed. Inside? That would mean they would be taking this further, and Sam didn't really know what to think of that. He swallowed again and suddenly, his alcohol fogged brain cleared and he realized that he's in the backseat of the mansion's Jeep, lying on top of a man who had been his teammate for several years and that they just hooked up. Like high schooler's in the backseat of a car that they didn't even own.

All the blonde can think to say is, "Uh…"

Remy flinches like he's just been shot, and before Sam even realizes what happens, the Cajun's out of from underneath him, out the door and murmuring something jumbled, with "Sorry," "tired," and "sorry" all mixed up together.

And then he was gone.

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Reviews? Yes? 


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